Parsnips
by Julia Claire
Summary: A oneshot from Ginny's point of view in Harry's 6th year when Percy comes back for Christmas with the Minister. "So I couldn’t waste good food, could I? But Percy was allowed to betray the family?" I own nothing.


Parsnips

"Parsnips, Remus?" George asked.

"Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair," I said cheerfully, trying not to laugh as I leaned across the table to pick it out. Phlegm shuddered, but really, when you've grown up when five brothers, you've seen a lot worse.

I sat back down in my seat between the twins. Fred, on my right, was scowling at George, who looked smug.

"What happened?" I asked them, trying to ignore Ron being an idiot over his older brother's fiancée.

"Look, Gin," Fred said, nodding at George.

I stared at my brother, watching him swallow big gulps of food from his plate - a plate that was full to the bursting with everything but parsnips.

"_Bastard_!" I said to him, trying to put as much anger as possible into a quiet voice so Mum wouldn't hear, but I probably shouldn't have bothered - she was too busy frowning at Fleur. "How did you get rid of them so quickly?"

"Didn't you hear me offer parsnips to Lupin? I just gave him some off my plate instead of ones from the main dish. He didn't notice. Genius, eh? More dessert for me!"

It was genius, but I had just lost part of my dessert, so I didn't admit it. I scowled at him too, and then went back to my meal, putting tiny pieces of parsnips into my napkin when Mum wasn't looking.

Since I was about four, the twins and I have been playing what we call the "Parsnip Game." I don't really think anyone likes the things, but Fred, George, and I absolutely despise them, so we invented the game, because Mum has always insisted on making us eat them. It started out kind of accidentally - when I was four, I stuffed my cheeks with pieces of parsnips, then ran to the bathroom, and spit it all out. The twins were the only ones who noticed what I'd done, and the game was born.

We even had rules now - which is a bit sad, I admit. You couldn't use magic to get rid of the parsnips, and you could only fill your plate up once until you finished the parsnips. We had prizes too. The first person to get rid of all his or her parsnips got to eat part of the others' dessert. If you got caught by Mum (which has happened a few times, although she hasn't ever guessed that we have a game going on), you had to give all your dessert to the other two. A few years ago, Mum stopped insisting we eat our parsnips, but we still play it anyway. It's a Christmas tradition. It may be stupid and childish, but, then again, so are we.

I sighed. Nothing - not even the Parsnip Game- was going right this Christmas. First of all, obviously, I'd just lost some of my dessert which, for me, is more tragic than it probably should be. Secondly, I thought, putting more bits of parsnips in my napkin, Phlegm was here. If I watch her feed Bill another piece of turkey off her fork, I think I'd go mad. As I watched her check her appearance in the back of her spoon for the two hundredth time in the last two minutes, I wondered why on earth Bill couldn't have chosen Tonks (or frankly, anyone else) instead. To make matters worse, I had to share a room with her! I just barely refrained from killing her last night, when she went on for twenty minutes about my looks. None of it was very complimentary.

Then there was Ron, who was currently stuffing her face like the pig he was. At least he wasn't mooning over Fleur anymore. He really did have the _worst_ taste in girls - he picked all the self-centred, shallow ones. Lavender was all right, I supposed, but dating her when there was a girl like Hermione around... We'd been talking a lot in recent weeks, even more than usual, and I really felt bad for her. Ron had hurt her a lot, not really on purpose, but just by being even more of his prattish self than usual. I'd say that he was as much of a prat as Percy, but that was impossible.

The last reason why my Christmas was so bad, I thought, putting almost all the rest of my parsnips in my napkin, was Dean Thomas. He wasn't physically here, but he'd been looming over my head all through the holidays. We'd had a row at the end of Slughorn's Christmas party. I could barely remember what it was about this time - I knew it started when he wouldn't let me go get the drinks. It was all so stupid. Sometimes, I really hoped he would just end it, so I wouldn't have to.

Really, I thought, taking a bite of my lunch as I half listened to Lupin and Harry talk about Patronuses, could my Christmas get any worse?

"Arthur!" said Mum suddenly, rising from her seat and looking out the window. "Arthur - it's Percy!"

I swear, there had to be a taboo on asking if things could get any worse. Somehow, they always did.

I stood up to get a better look out the window.

Percy was here. Merry _freaking_ Christmas to me.

I was so upset that my traitor of a brother was back, that I didn't even notice who he was with - until -

"Arthur, he's - he's with the Minister!"

I just sat there, my mouth open, not sure what to think, what to say. Which was actually kind of unusual for me.

Then the back door flew open, and there stood Percy and a man I'd previously only seen in the newspapers - Rufus Scrimgeour. Of course, I'd heard people talk about him too, but being around the Order, none of it was too complimentary.

I wasn't paying attention to him, though, too focused on my third eldest brother. I still couldn't decide what to do, didn't even know if I was glad to have him here. What he'd done was wrong and seeing him was painful.

After an uncomfortable silence, Percy said, "Merry Christmas, Mother."

She, of course, started crying, and gave him a hug. So maybe that was what I should do, without the crying, of course.

I'd been struggling with how I felt about Percy since he left. Sometimes, I wanted him to come back - even though he _was_ a idiot - so much it hurt. I had cried the first few nights after he left. (Hermione was the only one who knew that, and I'd deny it if anyone else ever found out.) Other times, I wanted to curse him with a Bat-Bogey Hex for the rest of his life. I'd remember the things he said, about Dad and Harry and everything else, and be almost glad I didn't have to see him anymore.

Even as these feelings dueled inside me, as Scrimgeour said something I didn't listen to, anger started to win out. Not only was Percy _not _apologizing, but he didn't make any attempt to greet me or anybody else in the family at all. He just stood there stiffly, hands in his pockets. Dad and the twins looked at him angrily. Not knowing what to do with myself, I finished putting parsnips in my napkin, and then finished eating the rest of the food on my plate. I didn't take anything else, though. I wasn't really all that hungry anymore.

"Please come and sit down, Minister!" Mum fluttered as she wiped her eyes, and tried, unsuccessfully, to straighten her hat. "Have a little purkey, or some tooding…. I mean-"

"No, no, my dear Molly," said Scrimgeour. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly…."

"Oh, Perce!" Mum said with tears in her eyes. I snorted. Oh, yeah, Percy wanted to see us all _so_ badly. So badly, he was just standing there, not even saying Merry Christmas to his own family. Even if he was embarrassed - which I didn't think he was - he could have said _something_. Plus, if he really wanted to make up, then why couldn't he have come at a time when the Minister wasn't with him? Surely, that would only make things so much more awkward. No, there was reason Percy was here with the Minister of Magic, but it wasn't to make up with us. I just didn't know exactly it was.

As though he knew was I was thinking, Scrimgeour said, "…. We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the garden while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden… Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"

Suddenly, with a rush of anger, I understood. Merlin alive, I hated Percy.

Did he really think we were all too stupid to see through this ploy? That we wouldn't think that it at all odd that Scrimgeour just happened to pick _Harry Potter_, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, to show him around our garden? George, Phlegm (who, of course, barely touched our "fattening" English food), and I all had clean plates as well. What a feeble pretense, that the _Minister of Magic_ couldn't recognize Harry Potter. You'd have to be simple not to notice the lightening-shaped scar, the jet-black hair, the _beautiful_ green eyes….

I shook myself. I had a boyfriend, and I needed to remember it. I really had to get over Harry Potter, especially because he would never reciprocate the feelings I had for him. Not that I _had_ any feelings for him, beyond sisterly. I was over him, even if Hermione didn't believe me when I told her that. Mostly though, I was - I didn't act like an idiot everytime he entered the room anymore, didn't always blush scarlet whenever he was in a ten-mile radius.

(Sometimes, though, I wondered if, though I was no longer in love with the Boy Who Lived, but sometimes, I wasn't more in love with _Harry_ than ever….)

Harry had gotten up and was walking toward Scrimgeour.

"It's fine," he said because both Dad and Lupin looked like they were going to protest this. "Fine."

I could tell, though, from the look on his face, that he knew exactly what was going on, and it wasn't "fine" at all.

Stupid, noble git.

"Wonderful," said Scrimgeour as they walked out into our yard. "We'll just take a turn around your garden, and then Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone."

I looked at Percy. He looked slightly smug, obviously glad that the Minister's plan had worked so well. He was disgusting, only coming to see his family on Christmas so his boss could cut a deal with Harry Potter. At least that part wouldn't work; Harry would never do whatever it was Scrimgeour wanted him to.

Too disgusted with Percy to look at him any longer, I grabbed my parsnip-filled napkin, thinking that I might as well throw it away while Mum was focused on Percy.

This didn't quite work out, because my mum is far from stupid. She knew why Percy was here now, although she probably still believed, in part, that he'd wanted to see us as well. But maybe she'd grown sick of looking at him as well because when I stood up, her gaze snapped onto me, and her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, saw what was in my napkin.

"Ginevra Weasley," she said angrily, although I suppose I was lucky she didn't start yelling. "Don't you dare throw those parsnips away. That is perfectly good food, and you will not waste it!"

Scowling, I sat back down, and dumped the mashed parsnips on my plate, feeling like a five-year-old. So I couldn't waste good food, could I? But Percy was allowed to betray the family? The twins were so busy glaring at Percy that they didn't even gloat too much about getting my dessert, but Fred gave me a quick, self-satisfied grin.

I was almost too mad to see straight when suddenly, I had a stroke of brilliance, the kind that usually only came to the twins. Immediately, I whispered it to them.

Fred grinned. "I like the way you think, little sister." He began eagerly mashing up his remaining parsnips.

George frowned. "But mine are all gone!"

"Get some more, then," I hissed, trying to make sure Mum hadn't overheard us.

"It's against my nature," he complained, but he took a big spoonful anyway. Bill stared at him. He knew how much George hated parsnips.

Ron was watching the twins mash up their parsnips with a look of puzzlement on his face. He wasn't about to tell on us, though. I would've tipped him off, but he was too far away, and besides, it was really only me and the twins who could pull something like this off. Everyone else was watching Percy, and didn't notice what we were doing.

When Fred and George were done mashing, I whispered, "Three, two, one - now!"

The three of us flung our parsnips at Percy's face using our spoons. We all got him in the face, but my aim was best. My parsnips were now flecked all over his horn-rimmed glasses, which was the best place I'd ever put them.

Percy muttered a few words that I never thought I would hear Percy the Perfect Prefect say, then stalked angrily out the door.

I watched him go, not feeling remotely regretful, although I did feel a bit sorry for Mum, who was too upset about Percy leaving to even yell at the twins and me.

Fred pounded me on the back. "Looks like we're not the only smart ones in the family, eh, George?"

"Not sure I _want_ to have the same intelligence level as you two," I said, smirking. "How many O.W.L.s did you get again?"

"Three is nothing to scoff at," George said. "And I wouldn't keep making fun of us, or I'll take back the dessert that I've just decided to give to you."

I couldn't help but grin. Phelgm was still annoying, Ron was still an idiot, and Dean was still my boyfriend, instead of Harry, but at least now I got to eat pie and my brother's face was covered in parsnips.

It was seriously sad, how happy that made me.

* * *

**A/N: Slightly revised August 2010. Thanks to all who have reviewed!**


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